


Threadless

by carolinecrane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Sharing Clothes, Size Difference, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:03:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5837371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seamus has a few talents. Not all of them involve explosions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Threadless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [octopus_fool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/gifts).



One thing Seamus had a bit of talent for - other than blowing things up - was severing charms. He was a fairly deft hand at sticking charms as well, but unlike explosions, both those talents were more about necessity than interest. 

It started when he went off to Hogwarts first year, away from his mam for the first time and finally able to try some of the spells he'd previously only heard about from his cousins. Turning water into rum wasn't nearly as easy as he'd been led to believe, and after he lost his eyebrows he decided to give that one a rest, at least until they grew back. Other spells seemed to have a tendency to explode when he was involved, however, even simple things like wingardium leviosa. They should have been easy enough; he'd grown up watching his mam do magic around the house, after all, and none of it had seemed all that dangerous.

Professor Flitwick chalked it up to what he called Seamus’ ‘explosive personality’ and tried to help him come up with coping mechanisms. Professor McGonagall just called him a menace and threatened to write home to his mam every time he blew up something new.

Though generally the thing he blew up was himself, and after a bit it began to take a toll on his wardrobe. Not that he'd been all that fussed at twelve years old about walking around with burn holes in his clothes, but McGonagall didn't seem to think it was all that funny, and his mam definitely didn't appreciate having to replace his school clothes every term.

He learned a severing charm first, to cut the burnt bits out of his clothes. After that it was a sticking charm, so he could stick new bits of fabric over holes in inconvenient places. He even tried to master needlework for a while, but he’d never quite got the hang of transfiguring matchsticks into sewing needles, let alone getting the thread to go through that tiny hole, and a good sticking charm had always done him well enough.

He'd gotten better since they all left school about not blowing himself up, but he'd never lost his knack for mending clothes. It was a useful enough skill; the only trouble was that it didn't help him when he'd forgotten to do the laundry.

It wasn't his fault he'd forgotten. It was Dean’s suggestion to go have a pint, just to settle Seamus’ nerves on the night before his big interview at the Ministry. Naturally one pint had led to two, then the lads had shown up and a few more rounds and several games of darts later, his nerves were well settled and Dean’s arm felt nice wrapped around him as they stumbled home. By the time they made it back to their flat and into their bedroom, clean trousers were the last thing on his mind.

Seamus glanced at the Muggle alarm clock Dean had brought with him when they'd moved in together, frowning when he saw that he had less than an hour to make it to the Ministry. He dug through the tiny wardrobe they'd begged off one of Seamus’ uncles, inspecting pairs of trousers to find holes and stains and one pair that smelled as though it had had a better night than Seamus.

Hermione could say what she liked about elf rights, and she might even have a point; it wouldn't change the fact that Seamus missed the Hogwarts house elves and their uncanny ability to find the dirty clothes in the dorms and bring them back clean and looking practically new. He could sure use a house elf now, because the only clean pair of pants in their entire flat were the new black trousers Dean had bought himself last week.

Technically Seamus didn't _need_ trousers to go to his interview. Plenty of wizards wore their robes over all manner of bizarre fashions, including the ones who didn't even bother with pants. But Seamus had grown up in a Muggle town, and he'd been dressing to blend in for so long that it felt strange to do anything else now. And the last thing he wanted on the day of his interview was to spend the whole time fidgeting because he was wearing nothing but a pair of y-fronts under his robes.

He considered one of his less filthy pairs, but what if something happened and his robes came open to reveal a large stain shaped like Italy and smelling of old soup? He did have a bad habit of causing fires and even minor explosions at odd times, and considering the job he was up for, it was a safe bet he'd set something alight today. With his luck it would be his robes , most likely while he was wearing them.

Which only left him one choice, if he wanted the interview to go well. He glanced toward the open bathroom door, listening to the sound of the shower running and Dean’s slightly off-key voice as he sang the wrong lyrics to a song they’d heard in the pub the night before. On any other morning he'd be clambering into the shower to mock Dean’s singing until Dean made him shut up, but this was no ordinary morning. This morning decided the rest of his life, more or less, and a morning like that called for drastic measures.

Dean's trousers were at least twenty centimeters too long for him. Far too long to fold up the cuffs and hope for the best, not if he didn't want to trip and blow up himself or something even more important. He knew Dean would be angry, but with any luck Seamus could get out of the flat before he noticed, and if he came home with good news, perhaps Dean would be happy enough to forgive him.

He took a deep breath and picked up his wand, straightening the trousers carefully before he picked his spot and muttered the severing charm. Instantly five inches of black fabric detached neatly from each leg, and after that it was a simple matter of folding the ends under and performing a sticking charm to keep them in place. The fit wasn't perfect, but their waist measurements were similar enough to pull it off, and once he pulled his robes on he felt sure no one would notice his ill-fitting trousers. 

Another glance at the clock told him he had twenty minutes to get his shoes and robes on, apparate across London, and make his way into the Ministry along with the rest of the morning rush. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled his shoes on, severing a couple stray bits of thread from the cuffs of his trousers before he stood up again. He ran his fingers through his hair and straightened his jumper, then he tucked his wand in his pocket and headed out of the bedroom.

He’d nearly reached the stairs when Dean stepped out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his waist. Seamus didn’t have time to get distracted, but he let Dean pull him forward by his tie anyway, leaning up to meet him for a lingering kiss. 

“Wish me luck,” Seamus said when Dean pulled back to look at him.

“You won’t need it,” Dean answered, pressing another quick kiss to his lips. “By the end of today you’ll be the newest member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad, and you can finally put all those talents of yours to use.”

“I’ll save some of my talents for home, yeah?” Seamus said, grinning when Dean laughed and let him go. “See you in a bit.”

He was down the stairs and reaching for his robes when he heard Dean’s voice again. “Oi, Seamus!”

Seamus thought about ignoring him and apparating to the Ministry before Dean could stop him, but before he made up his mind he heard Dean on the stairs. Seamus sighed and turned to face him, robes hanging open over the evidence of his crime. Dean was standing on the stairs, the severed cuffs of his new trousers hanging from one hand.

“This one of those talents you’re saving for home?”

“I’ve only borrowed them,” Seamus said, but the tips of his ears were burning and when Dean climbed down the rest of the stairs he took a step backwards.

“Borrowed? You can’t grow them back and you know it.”

Dean took a few more steps forward, and Seamus resigned himself to his fate and met him halfway. “I’m sorry. Only all mine were dirty, and I couldn’t go to my interview without trousers.”

Dean rolled his eyes, but the hand holding what used to be the rest of his trouser legs fell. “Well go on, then. If you’re late you won’t get the job, and you’ll be needing the salary to buy me a new pair of trousers.”

Seamus grinned wider than ever and pressed forward, up onto his toes to press a hard kiss to Dean’s lips. “Knew I loved you for a reason.”

“You’re just lucky you look good wearing my clothes,” Dean said, but when Seamus stepped backwards and turned on his heel to disapparate, he caught a glimpse of Dean’s smile.


End file.
